


Call Me, Lover Boy

by griddle



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Baristas, Help, How Do I Tag, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 09:39:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15288735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griddle/pseuds/griddle
Summary: Park Jaehyung and Kang Younghyun finds love amidst exotic cocktail mixes, sugar and spices, the high and lows of pubs and bars, find the rush of fools calm once they collide. Find out if the night manages to serenade their fiery chemistry, or if dawn greets them with separation.





	Call Me, Lover Boy

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by Phum Viphurit's song "Lover Boy" and omygod haHAAA that title idk if i like it or not.  
> Anyway, i recommend listening to that song while reading this fic bc honestly, that's how i wrote this haha.
> 
> also get ready, i love sungjin here. (hint: he do a smirk™)
> 
> see me at twt: @yuqq_puqq  
> ask me stuff at curiouscat: @yuqq_puqq

Jae sweeps the dark streets, corners lit by dim lights and the occasional car passing by. Skies above twinkle with stars, the moon isn’t out but it’s just as bright— Jae feels good tonight, more than as he opens the glass door to Sungjin’s bar, the chimes tinkling in the evening’s breath. He settles—charcoal coat, cream long-sleeved polo—laid ease.

  
Sungjin’s bar is the city’s sleek “ **Midnight Day”,** serving drinks from dusk to dawn—just as the name says. The interior is the same velveteen of the waking sky, and just as the mix of tabletops, cushions, sofas and tables muted with splashes of peach sunsets on the beach.

  
The bar’s main attraction is not it’s atmosphere, nor the exclusive drinks displayed and intricate glasses, nor the fame of its name. No, for Jae, it’s the people.

  
It houses two waiters who fell in love with the blitz of wine and music:

There’s Wonpil, the waiter whose music plays at his fingertips— rhythm n’ blues, jazz, classic, soft rock, acoustic. He controls the scene, sets the mood right. On Fridays, Wonpil plays the piano set at the centre of the bar, bring to life songs told on customer requests.

He spins with his co-waiter, Dowoon, elusive and shy, deep voice and soft eyes, his dark charm contrasting his warm nature. When Dowoon feels like it, he'll sing a line or two from whichever song Wonpil plays on his piano, the gentle timbre of his voice crashing like a tsunami, like a drink too heady.

Lastly, Sungjin is always the prime show—putting a new spin on "bar owner". He speaks like a king, mixes drinks so flawlessly it’s mesmerizing to watch, flirts casually, but with distance that makes the customers return.

He'll do new drinks, specials that he only releases once a month, things he, Dowoon and Wonpil formulated. And it's always a success, a succulent trip of liquid gold on one's tongue.

  
Tonight, however, there’s a new burn, new flame to the fire. Sungjin managed to lure a new face, and Jae’s determined to know this person more.

  
Sungjin perks when he hears the doors chime, the bar not too empty, nor too crowded. Midnight Day is always a good place to hang out, or to pass the evening on cool.

  
“Jae!” Sungjin beams, calls from the counter where he’s setting drinks to the customers. Jae waves, walks , sits down on one of the plush seats. Sungjin comes a minute later after fixing another drink.

  
“What brings you here?”

  
“Ah, it’s a good night, that’s all. _Plus_ , I’m booked to direct another blockbuster, so there’s _that_.”

  
“ _So_ ,” Sungjin smirks, “it’s a celebration?” Jae chuckles, nodding. “You should also tell your waiters to stop being handsy while on the job.”

  
Jae cocks his head to the far left, where Wonpil and Dowoon were cleaning a few tables, skimming around. Jae snorts, watched Dowoon's head dip to whisper something to Wonpil, Wonpil kiss Dowoon's temple, the other leaving a linger to Wonpil's waist.

  
“ _ **Hey**_!” Sungjin scolds, disbelief proposed with mirth, anger watered down with amusement. “ **You’re still on duty!”**

  
Dowoon was first to jolt in shock, ever the nervous man he is. He meekly bows his head to Sungjin, calls out an apology. Wonpil just giggles before going back to work.

  
“They’re always like that,” Sungjin clicks, amusement lining his smile. “But they’re good. They keep this bar lively.”

  
“Anyway, who’s the new one?” Jae asks.

  
At that, Sungjin glances at the other end of the counter, where a man with round cheeks and dagger eyes sit. His black hair reflects contrasts the low lights, his powder blue shirt accentuating his features.

  
Sungjin knows where this is going— what Jae wants, Jae gets. Jae is confident, although will sometimes doubt himself, but will always turn out in the worst scenarios with the best outcomes, the wrong always right, his abilities never letting him down.

  
So, Sungjin relents.

  
“I don’t know him, just showed up tonight. But, if you will—”  
And Jae will. He’ll snag this person, by hook or by crook.

 

* * *

 

Brian alludes the night to his success as a poet. His new collection of romantic poems, under the pseudonym _YoungK_ , is sold out within the first three days of sale, and that’s something worth drinking for.

So, for the night, he decides to go to the bar where Dowoon, one of his oldest friends, works— and allegedly found love in.

  
Who knows, maybe this could be his inspiration for his next collection.

  
_Who knows, maybe he’ll also find somebody here._

  
Dowoon welcomes Brian when Brian calls for him, glad that the writer found time to visit.

  
“this is a nice workplace, actually,” Brian says, a first-timer, not the schematics of bars, but to the feel of Midnight Day. It has its own groove, plays its own game, stands out and shines extraordinarily. “it gives you justice as one of most sought-after baristas in this area.”

  
“Ah, hyung. You’re sounding like my workmates. As if I didn’t test on you my first mixes way back in college.”

  
Brian laughs, remembering. “Yeah? And I can brag about it.”

  
Some other customer beckons Dowoon, so he excuses himself, Brian saying he’ll enjoy well on his own. However, Brian didn’t miss Dowoon’s quick snap across the room, where another waiter standbys and changes the music selection.

  
It’s probably Dowoon’s rumored lover— red hair, cute smile, has excellent music taste.

  
_“Searching for the one to make me right”_

  
Before Brian settles with a scotch with brandy mix, his eyes settle on shined specs from across, a tall frame talking to the bar owner. Small eyes, smooth, fair skin, their black hair a beautiful mess cascading into bangs onto his forehead.

  
When Brian thought that maybe he’ll find a person in this bar, he didn’t know it’s meant to happen.

Yet, tonight, he’s captivated with a stranger looking back at him mischievously.

 

* * *

 

  
_“Wondering if they're the shade of you. And if so, should I try to see this through."_

  
Jae has to admit, Wonpil has wonderful music taste. He can make everyone jive into it, and tonight, it sets the mood for what he’s about to do.

  
“Hey,” he moves, slides in next to the stranger he has been eyeing for a while now. Half of him thinks this is too forward, too aggressive. The other half is languid, thinks it’s right to assert. He places two drinks in front of them—one for the stranger, one for him.

  
“I ordered something I thought will suit you.”  
The stranger tilts his head, his full body twisting to face Jae and his hand settles, cradling his chin.

  
_**“How do I know this isn’t spiked?”** _

  
At that Jae laughs, small but loud hiccups of amusement, and he could swear to all the love gods out there that the beautiful stranger smiled as well. He wasn’t wrong: when his eyes landed, he saw a bunched cheeks, an ear-to-ear grin. The stranger might as well jumped out of a toothpaste commercial.

  
Jae dares this night to be with him as he toes boundaries. Whatever will happen—a fling, a one-night stand, a relationship—he’s willing to get it, drink this man in as he gulps in his liquor.

 

* * *

 

  
**_“How do I know this isn’t spiked?”_** Brian jokingly asks, scoffs. The man in specs laughed— melodious, just as breathy as his voice, but jubilant. Brian swears to whatever luck he nicked that night that he could watch this man laugh, all day, all night, all of his years.

  
“It isn’t spiked. If it were, Sungjin would’ve caught on. And I wouldn’t do that—harassment.”

  
“Sungjin?” Brian questions. The other hums assent.

  
“The owner of this bar,” speckled stranger points as Brian sips on his drink. He directs back to the man behind the counter, his wide eyes and honey-regal speech. Sungjin has the same quality of the bar he owns.

  
“So you know the employer of my friend?”  
“Who is it?” speckled ~~_(he calls him in his head, for the meantime_~~ ) continues, waves for another glass.

  
“Dowoon.”  
“So my friend’s boyfriend?” the man smiles, eyes alight.

  
“You mean you’re friends with Wonpil?”  
“Yep,” the man replies coolly.

  
“Whoa,” Brian exhales. “This is a small world.”

  
“Really?” By now the other is mirroring Brian’s posture, their bodies as close as the stools allowed. “—but it took us this long to meet.”

  
Brian does an experimental sip— possibly to distract himself from the onslaught of flirting. Bitter flavor and hot spice comes, a hint of sweet and citrusy. He’s surprised with this new mix of colors.

He’d usually take his safe, down-to-earth, never straying too far from what’s tried and tested. This one gave him new heights, but playfully teased the other, pretending to dislike it.

**_"Really? This drink?"_ **

  
_Blink, blink_. Eyes fluttered in sudden abashed discomfort, the gush of swagger gone from them. In it’s place is of somewhat a tall bamboo shoot trying to fold into theirselves.

  
“…you know, you can tell me if you want a different drink.”

  
Brian doesn’t think he’ll yield— his nose is still wrinkled from fake disgust, chin up high and eyes slanted down. In the distance, he can spot Dowoon’s expression: _what the fuck?_

  
“I’ll go order—”  
“ **No**! Oh my god, I was _joking_ ,” he says, spins in a half-apology, half-explanation kind of thing as he pulled the stranger’s hand back down.

The other shivers from touch, curls their fingers into a fist. _No more,_ they seem to say. Brian sees the flash of insecurity in his eyes before it got shrouded with relief

 

_"Darling, I've got my trust issues. Warning, you stay away."_

  
“Oh,” and he sets down his hand, finally letting his pinky curb onto Brian’s. “I _really hope_ I'm not too forward. It’s been awhile for me when I say I haven’t shown interest to anyone for like, _**five years**_. The last one—” he hesitates, curls his finger tighter. “Let’s just say I wasn’t aware of her having another boyfriend.”

  
Brian tries to say I’m _sorry_ , but how can he be when his neurons are actively pumping into his blood the word “ **SINGLE**!”, every fucking nerve in his body, every part digesting and chewing that one validation that _yes_ , this man right here is for yours to take.

  
As if it weren’t enough, when Brian said work had rendered him **single as well** ( _“being an author sometimes sucks. You have to write even when you don’t want to, so I dated MS Word and Notepad instead of a human person. This is my first time out since forever, and frankly, I’m not disappointed.”_ ),

he watched the same hope mirror his own, the same possibility, **_availability_** , the go-signals evidently about to make them deaf.

  
“This is not a tactic to bed me?”  
“This is _may not_ be a tactic to bed _me_ ,” winks coyly, and Brian swims in the shade of surprise bubbling up the stranger’s cheeks, as easy as red wine bottling meteors falling from the sky.

  
_If nothing happens to us, I’ll truly cut my hand off and stop writing about love,_ Brian cursed.

  
His eyes are trained on the stranger’s specs, its sheen reflecting the soft yellow glow of the bar. In the background, the song is still playing, lyrics twisting around his head.

  
A flicker, pink lips curving into a smile, hands separating but the hold onto their gaze steady and ever as firm as it is.

  
“Looks like I’ll have to do this first,” the stranger sighs, eyes rolling playfully around. He leans in, whispers a shiver down Brian’s nape, gives birth to a whimper caught between Brian’s lips: " _What’s your name?”_

Brian’s vision is tunneling in the pale neck, the soft skin found in the curves of his collarbones, hands fumbling in his own lap, failing to find purchase of the fantasy gone wild into reality.

  
“It’s Brian,” slips around dry lips, swallowing the knot of saliva in his mouth. _What is going on? **What is going on?**_ And he smells so tantalizingly _sweet_ — the mixture of wine, cocktails clinging to his cologne, an undertone of chocolate and caramel.

  
“My name’s Jae,” he continues, slips back his hand, adds another around Brian’s waist. Jae keep it there, teasing it lower into the hoop of his belt. ”I best suggest it’s time we get out now.”

  
The music trickles into nothing, smooth hands gliding into each space of skin, into each crevice found in clothing. Jae steals a kiss, Brian steals two more. Jae hastily pays the bill— “ _I’ll go pay it, duh. I’m the one who bought you drinks.”_ Brian hails a cab, can’t keep his hands to himself, the song crooning in his head.

 

* * *

 

  
_“I’ll be your new school soul, silver and gold. New desire, friends on fire— call me Lover Boy”_

  
The night was blown with kisses too suggestive for public eyes, the driver apprehending them with a look, Jae leading the way to his house, Brian insinuating a joke similar to before— “I might get ax-murdered here,”

Brian cuts in between kisses, dancing in the darkness while Jae stumbles to his bedroom. He can feel a grin against his teeth, Jae shaking his head, tutting, impatient.

  
“I’ll have to have you first.”

  
They fall onto the heavenly duvet, cushioned with a mattress. Jae takes a moment to look—Brian’s face is flushed even in the dim, the only light from the seeping streets outside, an orange against his pink.

Their clothes are half-down, coats discarded way back at the front door, shoes littered onto a path along the way.

  
“This is funny for a one-night stand,” Jae laments, looking fondly at a Brian curling himself into Jae’s palms. Brian cracks an eye open, watch it softly gaze back at him, hums.

  
“It’s fine. One-night or two or for a lifetime.”

  
Skin against skin— there's every muscle, bone, every sinew. There's the heartbeat of Jae under Brian's palm, the clench inside Brian's thighs, where Jae's holds him. Brian shudders, Jae moans, flesh over flesh and want crashing on want.

Brian latched on Jae’s shoulders, Jae bent over Brian, breaths mixing until they’re of one smoke, no beginning, no end— just a tangle of bodies and sheets, just a bed where two people made love.

  
Jae turns, breath fogging against Brian’s ear, watches said man flush against him and mouth openly at his right cheek. _What were the lyrics to Wonpil’s song?_

He can’t exactly remember the words, but it’s of fire and passion, of wooing and winning living and letting. _This is it,_ Jae thinks, letting Brian drown him in his ocean, allowing Brian to wash him in his tidal warmth.

 

* * *

 

  
_“If we meet at the rendezvous take me away, sunray”_

  
Brian blinks to the sun—not the literal one, but to the one sleeping beside him, to the one mumbling incomprehensively next to him.

  
The situation is still oddly unnerving. How in the world does he find a grown man cute, **_adorable_** even, blabbering nonsense in his sleep and doing finger guns?

Jae really is _something_ else.  
He's still drowsy, though, the nag of soft pillows gone when he moved and Jae blinked, half-awake.

"Hey—a **omygod** you're still **there**."

" _Jae_ ," Brian clicks, condenscending. "You're too noisy in the morning."

"And you're too sexy in the morning," Jae replies, tosses Brian's plea aside to marvel at him, memorize the plane of his sleepy face, eyes still crusted with the dirt it retained overnight. 

"What do you mean..." a yawn escapes, Brian trailing off the question.

"I mean _that_ morning voice."

"Mhm, and yours is very hoarse but chatty."

There's a rustle, Brian rolling over and unconsciously drags the blankets with him. Jae releases a grunt of frustration _("Hey! I'm cold **and** naked!")_ , making the other crack their eyes open and laugh for the littlest split second.

"Okay, okay, let's sleep again," Brian laments, tosses the sheets back to Jae. Jae glances at the clock adjacent to his bed, forehead creasing under worry.

"But it's 10:45 in the morning."

"And so?" Brian is snuggling, having Jae spoon him _(it fits, he thinks, despite that Brian is broader and Jae is thinner, but somehow their height difference balances what their body build cannot)._ "It's a Sunday morning, and I'm feeling lazy. Don't get out of bed."

"I'll stay." He kisses Brian goodnight ( _good morning? Afternoon?),_ lets his dreams flood him once more.

Outside, the world is still spinning, going on with reality, the hustle and bustle of living, but it's quieter—peaceful even. When two souls find a connection, the pull of gravity lessens from one to earth. 

Instead, it goes from person to person, a magnet untethered, until you're drawn, like two men deep in their slumber, deep in the dreams they found in the arms of each other.

**Author's Note:**

> HAHAHAHA watch me do song references ayeeeeee. pls forgiveth me i dont know a fucking tHING on drinks i only drink water +++ i cant drink bc i have high acidity so???? i kinda had to google this stuff and rely on that.  
> anyway, i promise i'll work on spin-offs of this and the neighbor au once i got my Actual Short Story™ done (in which i have a writeup but im doing this instead of that).


End file.
